


Dog Days

by GigaCat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek is tired of these motherfucking witches and their motherfucking curses, M/M, Slow Build, Stiles is barely underage, kind of making shit up as I go, no stupid gary stu or mary sue, other characters will appear I'm sure, possibly a brief OC, will change tags as I go, will live up to explicit rating later on, will probably have knotting later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GigaCat/pseuds/GigaCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cursed to the form of a simple dog, Derek must find a way to break it or else he'll remain that way forever.  </p><p>Fate crosses his path with Stiles Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I'm working on this story as I go. I have parts written out, but piecing them together is a long work in progress. I'll be gauging reader reaction/feedback as I go. 
> 
> This will be a slight AU canon divergence in that people do know about the Hales and the fire, but the main group never met him. Scott is not a werewolf (yet; I am undecided if he will become one later or not). Ergo, no kanima or anything. Derek is an Alpha. 
> 
> The story will start out more within maybe the 'teen' category, but I've rated it explicit for later chapters. Just FYI. Do not expect dirty-hot-porn right away. Slow build ahoy!
> 
> I will not have a set update schedule, but my goal is to have at least one chapter a week.
> 
> Sooo yeah... Here we go!

Derek stands defensively on the partially wrecked porch of his house, or what remains of it, and stares down the old woman tottering towards him. She smells like a _witch_ , like ozone and incense and moss, a cloying mess that she hasn't even tried to hide with a charm. She also carries the smell of _blood_. She looks like she could be on a postcard next Santa Claus, with her neat, snowy white hair, rounded face and plump frame. Her smile is saccharine, the very thing that deceives people perfectly.

Derek knows better. His wolf is already rankled by someone being on his territory, let alone that someone being a _witch_. 

"This is private property," he informs her flatly.

She comes to stop at the end of the stairs and peers up at him through her circle-framed glasses, mouth forming a curious o-shape briefly. "I wasn't aware," she replies with an out-of-breath chuckle. The way she shifts her weight to one side informs Derek she's injured somewhere under the long cloak she wears. "There's going to be a dreadful storm and I've been wounded, I had hoped to find shelter..."

Derek's brows raise, unimpressed with her charade. "Town's that way."

She blinks, brows knitting. Troubled. "I don't know these woods very well, you see, I-"

" _Witches_ -," Derek cuts in sharply, taking a step down closer to her, eyes flashing a vivid shade of crimson, "-are not welcome in my territory." Her expression promptly changes to something hardened, _fierce_ , maybe even a little terrifying to someone else. A harsh crash of thunder rips through the sky and the scent of impending rain thickens. 

The old woman's eyes narrow and they downright pierce into Derek, unsettling his wolf even more. It's growling and snarling and snapping right under the surface. "Have you no trust? No _heart_?"

Derek takes another step and she backs away as he flashes his teeth at her, fangs elongating slowly. " _Leave_."

The witch lets out a haggard breath and she scowls, right until her expression turns to something like _pity_ as her gaze flicks over the remains of the house. She ignores the growl Derek now lets bubble free from his throat, and when she looks back, she _knows_. 

They stand across from each other and several long moments pass. Derek grows more aggressive, wants this person _gone_ from his territory. The witch looks short of _tears_ with the amount of compunction in her expression. 

"You have no pack," she observes, _knowing_ how much it _cuts_. "No family. You are an Alpha with _nothing_ and yet you do not welcome the chance for companionship."

Derek's hands curl and claws replace his nails. His eyes turn red and stay red, his feet stand wider apart and he crouches; how _dare_ this stranger come onto _his_ land-

Before Derek can let out a guttural roar, the old woman holds her hand out and the sound dies halfway up Derek's throat. He tries to move but falls instead, numbness washing over him, blood pounding in his ears so that he can barely hear her muttered incantation. He twists and spasms, _pain_ rushing him and his wolf whimpers and whines, scrabbling for purchase _anywhere_. It's too late though. The pain blooming and bursting behind his eyes turns into a migraine and black washes over his vision, the final sound he hears being that of the sky letting out another ominous bellow.


	2. When Worlds Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI on mention of Derek's eye color -- I went with the theory that since he was cursed to look like an average (if albeit wolfy-looking) dog, his eye color would change too. Hence why no red eyes.
> 
> Oh yeah, did I mention all of this is going to be from Stiles' POV?

"Might wanna let your mom know you're staying over tonight." Stiles glances up at the starless sky before looking back at the road. It's Friday and Allison is out with Lydia, which means Scott's free to have a game night with Stiles. They just got out of the store for a snack run, in fact, and are heading back to Stiles' place, trying to beat the storm. 

"Yeah," Scott agrees, digging out his cellphone to send his mom a text. "So which game are we gonna hit first?"

They go on to debate the merits of Left 4 Dead over Call of Duty over Halo, when the sky finally opens up and the rain _hits_. When it storms in Beacon Hills, it _storms_. Which means by the time they get to Stiles' house, the street is going to look like a lake. They're still a ways from home, so Stiles' throws on the windshield wipers as fast as they'll go and he backs off just a little on the speed. The debate over zombies versus terrorists versus flood continues, all thoughts of school left back at said school grounds.

Scott is about to suggest they flip a coin or play rock, paper, scissors for the decision, because they're secretly _five years old_ , when Stiles glances down just long enough to locate his energy drink. 

It's already hard to see out the windows, but he sees a black _blur_ of something and startles, hand jerking because he's _Stiles_ , and Scott braces himself back in shock. They hear a distinct _plunk_ against the very edge of Scott's side of the car followed by a high-pitched _yip_ and Stiles' heart sinks. He slows down as gradually yet swiftly as possible and pulls to the side of the road. "Oh my god, please be a bunny."

They both turn in their seats to try and see out the back window and, sure enough, there's a large furry lump laying on the side of the road. 

"Oh my _god_ ," Stiles whimpers, scrambling to get his seatbelt undone. 

"Dude, it's pouring out there, I can't see.... I think it might just be stunned," Scott reasons, frowning a little because he works at a vet clinic; he's got a bleeding heart for animals too. Rain or not.

Stiles isn't having _guesses_ here. He puts his hood up over his head and gets out despite the onslaught of rain, Scott following. They rush over to get a better look at the dog they hit and _Jesus_ , it kind of looks too big to be an average dog. "Holy _shit_ , tell me I didn't hit a wolf. I didn't think wolves were here in California!"

"I don't think it is," Scott shouts back over the rainfall. "I think it's just a really big dog." He kneels down carefully, just in case the thing jumps up and starts snapping. He feels over the dog's body. Stiles thinks he's probably trying to discern a broken or dislocated bone. A wet whimper just barely drifts out of it. "It's still alive. Come on, help me out."

Together, they carefully lug the dog into the back of Stiles' Jeep and scramble back inside for shelter, even though they're both soaked now. Stiles looks horrified, glancing back at the poor thing before he puts his seatbelt back on. "Deaton's?"

Scott nods.

When they get to the vet clinic and bring the dog inside, Scott finds a muzzle to fix on it for safety precautions, then they start to dry it –- _him_ \-- off. "He's got a collar," Scott declares when his fingers hit a leather collar buried under all that wet hair.

Stiles whimpers. "Tell me I didn't just permanently disable someone's pet, Scott."

"I think he'll be alright." Scott makes a face. 

"What?" 

"'Derek'," Scott reads off the tag. "That's all his tag says. What kind of name for a dog is _Derek_?"

Stiles blinks a few times, as bemused as his friend is, but he continues to buff the backside of the dog dry with a towel. "A really fucking weird one. Seriously, there's no address or anything?" 

"No. I'll see if he's got a microchip." Scott trots off and comes back a few minutes later with the handheld device, runs it all along the dog's back and flank. He frowns again, shaking his head. "Nothing. We'll have to put him up on the board as a missing dog, someone's gotta be looking for him."

They toss the towels in the laundry bin and, together, they get Derek into a holding cage for the time being. Scott scrawls out a note for Deaton and sticks it to the office door, then shrugs at Stiles. "That's all we can do for now. Don't worry about it too much man, pretty sure he just got a hell of a headache. Maybe bruised, but we won't know till he wakes up."

Stiles nods, running his hand over his buzzed hair. He still feels pretty goddamn shitty. He'd feel less shitty if it had been a rabbit or a squirrel or something. "Yeah... Come on, I'm gettin' cold."

They head outside and jump into Stiles' Jeep, and Stiles takes Scott back to his place for gaming. Energy drinks, junk food, and violent video games help him ignore his guilt.

 

Scott and Stiles go back to Deaton's the next morning to check on Derek. Deaton never called Scott when, rightfully, he should have, what with the new canine in the holding cage. Plus Scott's note on his office door. Neither of them are sure why Deaton doesn't call, but it's probably because he's expecting them to show up anyway.

Which is evident in the way Deaton smiles at them in that subtle way of his; he's currently overseeing vaccine supplies. "Good morning, boys."

"Morning," Scott greets back.

"Is he alright?" Stiles blurts out, more concerned than anything.

Deaton's smile grows more fond and a little something else that neither can identify. "By 'he' I'm going to assume the dog in the note. Derek?"

Stiles nods rapidly. "He's not brain damaged or anything, right?"

"No, he's fine. He doesn't like to be handled much, but I was able to examine him." Deaton finishes counting one shelf filled with ampules, writes down a number, and moves on to another. "I would have thought he'd be more injured, actually, but he's just a little tender on the right flank and there's a little bit of swelling on his head. Seems to be fine though. He's drowsy right now from the painkillers. You can go back and see him if you like."

Stiles relaxes and nods, smiling finally, as does Scott. "Thanks, Doc."

They head back into the room where Derek is and they find him curled up at the back of the cage, head on his paws. His eyes are open and are a startling shade of green. It's really pretty shocking against the stark black of his fur. Derek watches them without moving his head, his blinking somewhat sluggish. There's a wide swelling above his left brow, about the size of a golf ball, but it looks better than expected.

Scott smiles. "Hey there, boy. You do look a lot better now."

Stiles crouches down to look at him better. "I'm so frickin' glad you're not road kill, buddy." 

Derek lets out a low, steady growl.

Stiles makes a face. "Aww, don't be sore at me. I didn't see you with all that rain goin' on."

"I wonder what breed he is," Scott muses offhandedly, brows beetling though his smile remains. "He looks like a hybrid."

"He looks like a frickin' wolf, dude. He's enormous!" Stiles stands and pockets his hands in his hoodie.

"We don't have wolves here in Cali."

"Yeah, well. He still looks like one..." Stiles chews his bottom lip a little, expression giving way to worry again. "So... If he doesn't have an owner, what'll happen to him?"

Scott shrugs. "Usually we give strays to the shelter. If no one claims 'em in a week, they go up for adoption."

"I wonder if dad would let me have a dog..." Scott sends his friend a look. Stiles stares back at him. "What? I'd be a great dog owner, okay? I've wanted one since I was five."

"I guess you would be pretty good at havin' a dog..." Scott looks back at Derek, thoughtful. 

"Damn right, I would!" Stiles grins confidently, ducking his head to look at said still-growling beast. "Sure he's a little cranky, he probably just hasn't forgiven me for, ah... hitting him with the Jeep..."

"You'd probably have to find work somewhere," Scott says. "Pay for his dog food and shots and stuff. Your dad might go for it then."

"Everything alright back here?" Deaton asks amiably as he walks in, his hands pocketed. 

"Yeah. Just wondering if I could talk dad into letting me get a dog," Stiles answers. He sticks the end of a hoodie drawstring in his mouth and chews at it, eyes not leaving Derek.

" _A_ dog or _this_ dog?" Deaton comes to stand beside the duo, looking in on Derek. "Because Derek here isn't all that friendly, like I said before. I had to use a muzzle on him."

Stiles frowns at the vet. "Is there a chance he could come around with, I dunno, TLC?"

Deaton smiles again while peering at Derek, whose green eyes stare right back at him. Scott thinks it's a little unnerving how piercing that look is. "Maybe. We don't know his past, but I don't think his motivations were pure aggression." He draws his hands from his pockets to casually fold his arms. "If _I_ were a dog, I think I'd prefer some TLC instead sitting at the pound for an unknown amount of time..."

Derek abruptly stops growling but his gaze doesn't waver off of Deaton. Stiles and Scott both blink because, seriously, if dogs could _scowl_...

Deaton's smile becomes more enigmatic before he looks at Stiles. "Either way, you have a while to convince your father to let you adopt. He has to get better first and then go to the local pound; if no one gets him within seven days, he's up for grabs."

 

Stiles pesters Scott into promising that he'll keep him updated on Derek's progress once he's cleared enough to go to the local pound. In the meantime, Stiles plots out how to ask his dad about it. 

It's going to require bribery in the form of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. It makes Stiles feel like a bastard, but he really wants that dog...

He tries to play it casual. 

His dad walks in from work and pauses at the door, eyeballing the meal laid out on the table. Stiles slaps a cherubic smile on his face. "... alright, what're you after?" 

Damn.

Stiles blows air. "Who me? Pff! What makes you think I want--"

" _Stiles_."

"--a dog. I want a dog." Stiles chews his lip, bouncing his knee as he watches his dad take his jacket off and hang up his gun holster. 

His dad sits and grabs a plate over, moving quickly as if Stiles will change his mind and try to take the food away. "What kind of dog, and you don't already have one stashed in your room, do you?"

"Wha- _no_ , dad," Stiles scoffs, eyes rolling. "We're not sure what kinda dog he is, he's just this big ol' fluffy, wolfy-looking thing. I kind of accidentally hit him with my car, so we took him to Deaton and he's alright now. We're just waiting to see if someone gets him, because he didn't have tags or a chip."

His dad arches a brow and shoves a large gravy-laden spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "So it's a big dog. That we have no idea is house-trained or-"

"I'll work with him, I swear!" Stiles interrupts eagerly, sitting forward. "I'll take full responsibility if he chews the couch or pees on the carpet and all that jazz."

"Are you gonna be able to pay for his food and shots, too?" his father asks over a bite of chicken. 

Stiles wets his lips uncertainly; he hadn't thought of that one. He could probably find part-time somewhere though. "Yeah. All that stuff." 

His dad sighs and doesn't say anything for a while, purposely tormenting his son. Stiles sulks and eats dinner after a while and finally, _finally_ when they're done, his dad sits back in his chair and smiles. It's just a little reluctant. "So long as you take care of it and take responsibility for any messes that happen, you can get a dog."

Stiles fist pumps in victory and his dad groans quietly over it, scrubbing a hand down his face.

 

Stiles gives Scott the news and, for the rest of the week, he's one giant buzzing bundle of nerves and he's pestering Scott every few hours about Derek's status at the pound. Scott's amusement quickly turns to annoyance by the end of day _one_. 

Saturday morning, he gets a text from Scott informing him the pound hasn't had anyone come by for Derek. 

Stiles quickly peels himself out of bed, dresses, and heads off to the pet store. He gets all the doggy essentials there; a collar and leash plus a muzzle, just in case, dishes, and dog food. From there, he drives straight to the pound and walks in with a bright grin, excitement having wound him up. He announces he's there for Derek and he gets a strange look for it; apparently Derek has tried to bite the caretakers a few times but, before they can tell him he's probably an unsafe dog to adopt, Stiles argues that it's been seven days, he found the dog in the first place, said dog was hit by a car and shoved into strange places, ergo he's adopting him no matter what.

He gets the collar, leash and muzzle from the car, then follows one of the caretakers back to the cage Derek is in. Stiles feels really kind of depressed here; it's hard seeing all the other dogs and cats staring at him with either hopeful or fearful eyes. Derek's cage is at the end and he's by himself there, just lying down in the corner, head on his paws, eyes ever watchful. His ears look like they're glued down but, when Stiles stops in front of the cage door, they swivel upward.

Stiles grins; he thinks Derek recognizes him. "Hey boy. Guess what?" He holds up the leash and wiggles it. "I've got an awesome home for you. Remember me?"

Derek's ears flicker back and forth a few times and there is honest to god thought in those eyes, Stiles swears it. The large, black dog stands up suddenly, head held low, and he takes a few steps toward the door. 

The caretaker looks a little flummoxed. "He must like you..."

Stiles' grin is large and triumphant, maybe a touch smug. "He knows a good home when he sees it. Lemme just-"

The caretaker's arm holds Stiles back. "Sorry, I have to. We're liable if you get bit." 

Stiles frowns some, but lets the guy take the leash and muzzle and he watches him enter the cage. Derek's ears pin back again and he growls lowly, baring his teeth. "It's okay, Derek," Stiles tells him, holding onto the chain link. He really hopes Derek doesn't go rabid all of a sudden and he'll feel bad if the caretaker dude gets bit to hell on his account. "You're comin' home with me, just gotta be safe, you know?"

Derek glances at Stiles then back to the man approaching him and, while he doesn't stop growling or baring his teeth, he doesn't make to bite. The caretaker murmurs quietly to him, moving slow as he slips on the muzzle and collar, clips the leash on, then lets out a relieved breath.

Stiles smiles again. "Good job, buddy." 

"Thanks," the guy says, grinning lopsidedly as he leads Derek out. 

"Not you, _Derek_ ," Stiles quips, snirking. He makes a grabby hand for the leash. "I'd be frickin' scared too if some guy stuck _me_ in a cage, then came at me with a muzzle." 

At least the guy is still a little amused. He hands over the leash and Stiles offers the back of his hand to Derek's nose; he's been reading about dogs _all week_. But Derek doesn't sniff, turns his head away instead to look around, growling still. 

Stiles smiles. It's alright. The sooner he gets Derek home, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at [Tumblr](http://gigacat.tumblr.com/). Be warned -- There will be pictures of men. And men's butts. And men's dangly bits. Often interacting with each other in fun ways.
> 
> Thank you to my BB [thevoiceofwrath](http://thevoiceofwrath.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing so awesomely. Without her, my fics would be a mess. Expect her Tumblr to have sexy men doing sexy things as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [Tumblr](http://gigacat.tumblr.com/). Be warned -- There will be pictures of men. And men's butts. And men's dangly bits. Often interacting with each other in fun ways.
> 
> Thank you to my BB [thevoiceofwrath](http://thevoiceofwrath.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing so awesomely. Without her, my fics would be a mess. Expect her Tumblr to have sexy men doing sexy things as well.


End file.
